


Away We Go

by CrazyCranberry



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyCranberry/pseuds/CrazyCranberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the incident with Loki, the Avengers are assembled once again. But this time, there is no crisis– at the moment. There's a new recruit at S.H.I.E.L.D, or a 'prisoner' as she calls herself.  She's a complete mystery. They have no idea how powerful she is or where she's from. She's not in any system of any computer they've searched– almost like she'd never existed before they'd found her. Though someone out there -besides the Avengers- knows of her existence,  and after receiving a series of bone chilling threats, it is apparent that this someone will stop at nothing to end it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What could you possibly want now? Our souls?” Tony exclaimed, waltzing into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. Black Widow and Hawkeye already sat at the table, talking something over in hushed voices. They paid Mr. Stark, nor his humorous comment, any mind. 

Captain America stood away from the two assassins, leaning against one of the tinted windows. As Tony took a seat at the impromptu table that had been set up, the Captain gave him a nod of acknowledgement. 

“Do you know why we’re here?” the Captain asked, looking around the small metal conference room. 

“Nope. I got an ‘urgent message’ from Nick, saying I was needed,” Tony said, shrugging. “But now I’m feeling significantly less special,” he continued, waving a hand at the rest of the group. 

“Well that’s a shame Mr. Stark, but we don’t have time for you self esteem issues,” Nick Fury announced, as he made his entrance, followed by Thor who looked none too pleased to be back on Earth. 

“What’s going on, Fury?” Black Widow inquired, stopping in the midst of her conversation. 

Nick crossed his arms over his chest, and took a deep breath. 

“We have a new recruit.”

There was silence for a few moments, before all hell broke loose.

“Who is it?”

“Where are they?”

“You called us down here for that!?”

“Why should we care?”

“Why did we need to know?”

“Yet again, for that!? It was seriously that urgent?!”

“Enough!” Nick barked, and the room quieted off into small grumbles of complaint and the occasional huff of annoyance. 

“We called you down here to deal with her,” he said, producing a small electronic device from his pocket. He set it down onto the table, fumbled with it for a minute, spewed out some R rated words, before finally getting a video screen to materialize in the air. Almost like a hologram. 

“This was a video transmission from one of our many ‘strategically’ placed cameras. It was in the West Andes mountain range. Most of the footage had been destroyed, and it’s definitely not in HD, but I want to give you an idea of what you’ll be dealing with,” he stated, and with that, he dimmed the lights and hit play.

At first, nothing happened. There was just some snow drifting by, and a view of a relatively flat plain of rock. 

Out of nowhere a figure in black (definitely a man) lands hard onto the ground, the automatic rifle in his hand firing chaotically at something outside their range of vision. The snow begins to swirl, the wind gusts liken to those in a blizzard. 

It’s hard to see what happens next, but everyone is pretty sure the figure in black makes his way to his feet, swaying to and fro, before being tackled back down by a blur of brown and beige. The rifle fires again just as the blizzard cuts off, like somebody had pulled an off switch. The figure in black makes his way back on screen, breathing heavily and lowers his weapon to point it at the ground. 

Apparently, that was a mistake. 

A shard of ice lodges itself within his skull, and the man falls, the sound muted by the now reddened snow.

A loud crunching was heard before the camera is rooted up from its spot and hurled off the mountain side. 

Fury paused it in its descent.

It had turned just enough to allow a clear shot -though distanced- of the other figure dressed in beige and brown, staring up at the clouds. A scarf was wrapped loosely around it’s head, the rest billowing in the wind, probably having been unraveled during the scuffle. It was most likely used to cover their face when the wind picked up. 

The pants looked to be made out of burlap, and the shirt, out of a torn and muddied cotton. Not exactly the attire you’d see for someone living on a mountain. 

Nick zoomed in as far as the camera was able, bringing very blurry picture of a young woman into view. He snapped his fingers and the lights came on and the screen disappeared, causing everyone to shield their eyes against the glare.

“We intercepted the woman a few hours later, and quickly apprehended her, though not without some trouble. The body of the man was nowhere to be found. We’ve come to the conclusion that she’d disposed of it,” he informed them, placing his hands on the table. “She woke up a few hours ago, and we haven’t been able to get an ounce of information out of her.”

“Why do you need us? She looked like any other assassin to me,” Hawkeye said, fiddling with his watch. 

“That’s what we initially thought. But after she lifted the water from a cup without touching it, we quickly dismissed that assumption,” he said. 

“So you need an interrogator?” Natasha asked, cracking her knuckles. 

Fury chuckled.

“That we do, Ms. Romanoff. That we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, I've decided to try out Archive of Our Own... I read enough on here that it'd be absurd not to get an account. This work comes from my other account on Wattpad.com, so if you've read it on there, don't be alarmed! It's me! For anyone reading my story, thank you so much! Don't be afraid to comment or message! (I'm assuming you can do that on here...?) Again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy! I'll try to update every Monday and Friday. (Maybe Wednesdays too, I haven't decided yet.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love. Huh. What is it good for?

Main Character’s (Name to be revealed) P.O.V.

 

It was cold here– sterile, to a certain degree. 

There was too much noise, too many machines, too much technology – too many people. I sat against one of the glass walls of the circular cell, hugging my knees to my chest. I replayed the mans death over and over in my mind, the complete and utter horror in his eyes making my chest smart horribly. It was either the beginnings of heart ache or that bullet hadn’t just grazed my side and was imbedded somewhere in my torso...

“Hello,” a woman called, and my eyes snapped over to the metal double doors that were swinging closed behind her. 

She looked a bit older than myself with a shock of shoulder length red hair. She donned a blue stretch suit and two handguns, which immediately set off warning bells in my head. 

I did not reply to her greeting, instead turning my gaze onto my feet which were bare and a bit dusty. 

“I hear you have some special abilities,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting right outside the glass opposite of me. I pulled the scarf further over my face, trying to shut her out as I’d done with every person I’d encountered thus far. 

The woman was quiet for a while, just tapping the back of her chair with impatient fingers. 

“How about...I’ll tell you where you are, in exchange for your name,” she offered, and I hesitantly met her eyes. She appeared to be telling the truth but I didn’t know this woman and couldn’t read her facial expressions. I noticed slight bags beneath her eyes, obviously from lack of sleep. That would explain the impatience... 

I shook my head, declining her offer. I didn’t need to know where I was– I just needed to find a way out.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” she asked, trying to lure me into to giving her information. 

I shrugged, thinking it was better not to speak. If she was carrying around guns she must have training of some sort, and unless she slipped up and actually told me something about this place, I’d have to suffice with being kept in the dark.

The corners of her lips dropped slightly and I could tell she was growing frustrated. Sleep deprivation could short circuit anyone. 

“I’m trying to do this the easy way, but if you’d prefer the hard way...” she growled, finger twitching, leveling her glare onto me. 

I stared back, keeping my face impassive, though she could not see it. 

“Fine then,” she huffed, standing and strutting over to a large control panel. She raised her hand to hit a button, which I presumed would open the door. This might just be my chance...

“Natasha!” a voice boomed, and her hand froze in mid descent. A few more people burst through the double doors, all of them not even remotely familiar.

“What are you thinking! We still don’t know if she’s a threat!” a man chastised, latching onto her wrist. He had a bow slung over his shoulder along with a ton of arrows. From where I sat I could tell there was a strong bond between the two, just from the look they exchanged.

Love – it was a weakness they shared. If they really considered me the enemy, they wouldn’t have made it so apparent. Or they truly didn’t notice how clearly their emotions were on display. I was leaning toward the latter. 

“Poor souls,” I thought, cocking my head to the side.

If I’d learned anything, it was that love would almost always be your downfall. And on the rare occasions that it wasn’t, the mere cruelty of the world would undoubtedly finish the job.


	3. Chapter 3

Captain America a.k.a Steve Rogers P.O.V

 

I watched the girl with suspicion as she tilted her head to the side, watching Clint and Natasha with an indecipherable look in her eyes. It almost looked like pity, but from this distance I couldn't be sure.

In the holding cell she looked more like a captive than a new addition to the Avengers. As if sensing my stare she glanced over in my direction, quickly breaking eye contact when Nick Fury barged in demanding: "What the hell is all this commotion about!?"

I saw the girl flinch at the tone, if only a little bit. She seemed too skittish to be considered a cold blooded killer, or even an assassin for that matter.

"Nat had a temper tantrum," Stark stated, earning a snarl from the Widow.

"I did not! I knew exactly what I was doing, "she snapped, indignantly.

Nick breathed in deeply through his nose, muttering a low, "bunch of toddlers," under his breath.

"Everyone out!" he commanded, pointing towards the doors. Natasha was the first to leave, followed closely behind by Clint. Stark took his merry time moseying through the doors, as always. I cast one last glance at the girl, who was now picking at a loose thread hanging from her shirt.

"Out!" Fury shouted after noticing I was still present. I hastily nodded to him before booking it out of there and catching up to the rest of the team.

"So what did she do that got your panties in a bunch?" Tony inquired, as I sidled up next to Clint.

"I've never been able to not read anyone! Loki practically radiated crazy so it wasn't hard to see what he was planning, but with her...it was like a freaking piece of blank paper! No flinches, changes in breathing– She gave away nothing!" Natasha fumed, jerkily pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Well that's good right? If she does join us nobody would ever be able to get anything out of her," Hawkeye reasoned, lifting a hand to pat Natasha on the shoulder, but thinking better of it at the last moment.

Natasha didn't respond, instead heading straight for the training room, no doubt to kick the stuffing out of an intern or a dummy. Knowing her, she'd probably do both. 

 

Main Character's P.O.V 

 

The man with the eyepatch loitered outside the entrance of the cell, peering at me from behind the glass like some specimen. I didn't like being caged up. Not. At. All.

"You sure managed to upset her, and that's a very hard thing to do," he said, chuckling a bit at the end.

I shrugged, feeling no more comfortable with talking to him now than I had been when I'd first arrived.

"We're not here to hurt you if that's what you're worried about. We want to help you," he said, folding his hands behind his back. Despite myself, I scoffed. I'd heard that before - many years ago - and due to the events that unfolded after that phrase, the promise now meant nothing to me.

"You don't believe me," he stated, and I was glad he didn't deliver his words in a question. This told me he was observant and would be harder to sneak past. If I was to get out of here I'd have to play my cards just right.

"That probably means you don't trust me either," he said, raising one eyebrow. My silence was answer enough for him.

"What if I said that I trusted you, and would open this door, on the grounds that you won't kill me after I do," he offered, walking over towards the control panel. I tilted my head to the side again, pretending to think. But in reality I already knew what game he was playing at.

He was testing my conscience. If I had one I wouldn't betray his faith in me, because that would be wrong. If I didn't have one, and if I tried to kill him, I'd probably end up with a bullet between the eyes before I could pass the thresh hold. On the inside I was chuckling though. He'd said not to kill him. He said nothing about escaping.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked, hand hovering over the button.

I nodded.

With a blast of cool air the door slid open, and I breathed in the scent of metal and wires. I immediately scrunched my nose up in distaste. Hesitantly, I stood, acting every bit the cautious, vulnerable newbie. The man was waiting at the end of the platform that led to my cell, and I walked towards him, keeping my stance as unthreatening as possible.

As soon as I cleared the thresh hold I gasped a bit, the cool metal felt like ice to my bare feet.

"Thank you for coopera–" he began, but never got to finish his sentence. I sent a blast of air straight into his chest, only hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and send him flying back a few feet.

I bolted straight for the double doors that I presumed was the exit and entry point, hoping to clear his range of fire if he managed to get a gun out. I was instantly met with a long hallway that branched off into many different sections. I sprinted dead ahead for a few moments before making a sharp turn after the man with eyepatch could be heard shouting a stream of profanities unsuitable for anyone below the age of 25.

I tore through what looked to be a lab of some sort and I shuddered at the memories it conjured up, the pristine metal table almost sending me into a full on flashback. My heart raced as I encountered another hallway, this one having no other doors except a metal one at the very end, with a small window at the top.

Having no time to wonder what was beyond the slab of steel, I crashed through it, and went sprawling onto the floor as I tripped over a punching bag of sorts.

"Watch where you're–!" a woman started to screech, and I froze recognizing the voice. I flipped over just in time to see Natasha raising her leg to send her foot sailing across the right side of my face.


	4. Chapter 4

Black Widow’s/ Natasha Romanof’s P.O.V

 

Just as my boot was about to meet flesh, the girls hands latched onto my ankle and yanked, sending me to the floor. She scrambled away, launching herself behind one of the cement pillars. 

I hurriedly made it to my feet and pulled one of the guns out, almost sending a shot through her skull when she peeked out from behind her temporary barrier. 

“I need back up!” I roared into my earpiece and was met with the sound of chairs clattering to the floor and the ragged breathing of my fellow avengers as they readied themselves.

“You still in the training room?” Clint asked, and I could hear him snapping an arrow into place. 

“Yeah,” I said, before the transmission cut off. 

I worked my finger onto the trigger and began to make my way to the opposite side of the room, making sure to leave a wide berth between myself and the escapee. But as soon as I had her in my sights, she had me in her own. She bolted, and I sprinted after her, trying to see if she had any weapons on her person. 

When I saw she didn’t, I picked up my pace, closed the distance between us, and tackled her to the cement floor. 

“Oomph!” she wheezed, as she hit the ground, her forehead connecting solidly with the the edge of a training dummy. 

For a minute I thought she’d passed out, but all of the sudden I was...flying. A gust of air had blown me right from atop her, sending me up a good five feet and into the water cooler. I groaned as I righted myself, my eyes scouring the ground for my gun. With a jolt of fear I realized I’d lost it sometime during the flight.

I slowly lifted my head to see both fully loaded pistols sitting at the feet of the girl. She had lost the scarf covering her face and this was first time I’d been able to get a good look at her. 

She looked to be in her late teens, her skin a slight tan color as if she’d spent the year in the desert. Her hair was long and a bit poofy with frizz, ending in small curls. The aqua eyes were a stark contrast to everything else.

She stared at my horror-struck expression, then slowly her eyes drifted down to the two guns. She seemed to realize why I was worried about and hastily scooted away from the weapons, shaking her head. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she mouthed, moving farther away.

She abruptly stopped a few feet later, and dragged in a shaky breath as she reached for her side. I could faintly see a blotch of red against the dirtied fabric, quickly identifying it as a bullet wound.

She was shot?

I knew none of my bullets had connected, so I surmised that this had happened when she was fighting the man in black. 

I stared at her in shock for a few moments, before rising to my feet. She mimicked my actions but still retreated, wiping a bit of blood from the gash along her forehead. 

A twinge of guilt hit me.

She’d just spared my life. That had only happened once in my career and it was not something I’d easily overlook. 

I opened my mouth to speak when the frenzied footsteps of the rest of the team were heard, followed by the barking of orders from some lower ranking agents. The girls eyes widened in panic, and without another glance in my direction she was gone, the door on the opposite side of the training facility swinging shut behind her. 

 

Main Character’s P.O.V

 

I tried to keep up my pace. I really did.

But between the bullet hole in my side, the possibility of a punctured spleen, and the splendid cut that was draining my skull of essential substances, I faltered a bit. 

Somehow, I managed to stumble out of a back entrance, though I do not recall how I got to the door. Cool night air enveloped me, and freedom was so, so close. I expected this to make me feel better, but I continually got worse. 

I could see that the compound was surrounded by a 20 foot high, electrical fence. I could go over it, but I would risk passing out in mid hover and turning myself into a piece of fried human. Or I could go under it, bending out a tunnel of stone, but risk passing out under ground and having no one be able to find me. Decisions, decisions. 

Turns out I wouldn’t have to make one as soon as I’d thought. The door banged open and on instinct I flung myself into a nearby row of bushes, placing my back against the brick wall they sat in front of. 

A man in a red, white and blue suit scanned the horizon, holding a shield of some sort against his chest. I held my breath, hoping he’d move on, but of course he stayed right where he was. The walkie talkie he held with his free hand crackled, and he raised it to his ear, the words being recieved inaudible from where I sat. 

I narrowed my eyes as he stiffened, before slowing turning towards where I sat. I looked to see what he could be looking at, and to my dismay I spotted a security camera pointed right towards me. 

I swiveled back around to see that the man was looking right at me. 

He took one step, then another, then another until he was right in front of my hiding place. He squatted down, his eyes never seeming to leave mine, and placed his shield onto the ground.

My heart hammered in chest, sending a none to pleasant throbbing sensation to my newly acquired injuries. 

Cautiously, his hands reached out and pried apart the leaves, the branches breaking beneath his grip. I pushed myself further against the wall, so much so that I knew I’d have a bruise there in the morning. 

I’d been found. 

The man removed his mask once he was done creating a hole in the once impeccable model of landscaping, and rocked back on his haunches, probably waiting for the others.

Nothing was said for a few moments, and I had to grudgingly admit that my chances of escape were right around zero. 

So, with a sigh, I slumped down, being sure to apply pressure to my bullet wound that would not stop with the freaking bleeding!

I felt myself beginning to black out, and whether in a moment of delusion or sheer exhaustion, I spoke for the first time in months.

“Hi,” I said, waving halfheartedly at the star spangled man. He arched one eyebrow in confusion, before fading into a black haze as I lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Captain America’s aka Steve Rogers P.O.V

 

The girl was even less threatening in sleep. After she’d passed out the other avengers had arrived, along with a medical team courtesy of Natasha. No one questioned her new concern for the girl– no one objected when she opted to stay with her after the small surgery that removed the bullet from her side. Natasha didn't offer any explanation, and no asked for one. Currently, the girl lied on the surgical table in white hospital garb, an IV attached to her arm. She was in one of the many labs that resided within S.H.E.I.L.D, a wide glass window allowing any passerby to see almost every inch of the room. I’d been walking by when I saw that she had begun to stir. Her fingers twitched lightly, yet her eyes did not open. I didn’t panic, refraining from calling for the doctors or security. She was indeed a curious one.

I leaned against the wall opposite of the lab, sighing, my brows furrowing in concentration. She could have taken me out as soon as I’d stepped through that door a few short hours ago. Could have killed me on the spot, but she didn’t. As Natasha’s new behavior developed, I’d come to the conclusion something similar had happened with her. I was jerked from my thoughts when I saw the girl shaking her head from side to side, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights. With her next actions, I started to think that maybe calling for the doctors would have been a wise decision. I’d seen no reason to panic from my view outside of the room, but it never crossed my mind that _she_ would start freaking out.

 

Main Character’s P.O.V

 

These lights...

They were too. freaking. bright.

I blinked slowly to get adjusted to the harshness but when my vision cleared, I immediately wished for my hazy sight once again. A surgical light fixture glared down at me, it’s metal framing mocking my fears that were starting to surface. A cry of hysteria bubbled up and past my lips and I sat up straight, cringing when my arm was tugged back by a wire. My eyes widened as I realized it was an IV. “No, no, no,” I muttered under my breath as I hurriedly tore it off, a thin trail of blood spurting from the minuscule wound. I scoured the room for an exit, only to find a rectangular seam in the far wall next to a panoramic window. I began to hyperventilate, fighting to stay in the present – to not let the memories overwhelm me. But this was a battle I was quickly losing.

_“Run, dammit! Go!” Roland shouted, pushing me towards the trees. “No! I can fight them with you, Ro! I’m strong enough,” I snapped back, but I could barely be heard above the sound of the planes blades as they whirled round. “No. You’re going to keep yourself safe. Please,” he begged, pulling me into his chest. He held me tightly for a minute, though it felt like it had merely been a millisecond. When he finally released me and sprinted away, I knew that the goodbye had not lasted long enough._

“Hey!” a voice shouted, and with a start I was launched back into reality, to find tears streaming from my eyes. I did not hesitate before moving to attack the source of the voice. Whoever’s face it was, was blurring with the tears and memories of faces of the men who had dragged Roland away. “Calm down!” the voice ordered, and I registered that it was indeed male which did nothing for my current state of mind. I aimed a punch at their head but it was easily blocked and my arm was twisted behind me, but not painfully so. Whoever was trying to immobilize me was trying to be gentle. I thrashed in the grip, kicking my legs back, but could do nothing when I was lifted from the table. Almost instantly my muscles locked into place and I went as stiff as a board, my breath caught in my lungs.

“ _Ro!” I screamed, debating whether or not to run and help him. He couldn’t take on those many men at once, especially without his bending. He was swinging his fists left and right, biting whomever was within reach. But finally, one of the agents had had enough. In one foul swoop he had lifted Ro above his head, then just as swiftly, brought him down onto a bent knee. I could hear the sickening crack from where I stood, the sound replaying over and over and over again. The bark beneath my fingers dug into the palms of my hands as it splintered under my death grip. I waited for what felt like years, hoping, watching. But Roland did not move._

The man holding me seemed to be confused by my sudden lack of motion, but nonetheless lowered me back down onto the metal table. I slammed my eyes shut, leaning over my legs that dangled off the side. I fought to try and slow my racing heart and to stop the shaking that had just developed in my hands. “Are you alright?” the man asked, and I nodded, sitting up slowly. Before me stood the star spangled man from outside. He wore the same confused expression, and I was briefly reminded of Roland, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the way his dimples showed when his mouth tugged down into a frown. This was something I did not like. “Are you sure?” he asked, watching me warily.

“Yes,” I rasped, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. It was silent after that, each of us zoning out into our own little worlds.

“You’re not a killer. Are you?” he asked, startling me. I glared up at him, the ice in my gaze making him quickly break eye contact.

“I don’t particularly like harming people, but I will if I have to,” I threatened, placing extra emphasis on the second part of the sentence.

“Understood,” he coughed, fiddling with the spot where his t-shirt met the front of his neck. This was the first time I noticed his colorful suit was gone, along with the shield. I didn’t broach the subject though. It wasn’t something I needed to know.

“Oh! You’re up! What happened?” a woman exclaimed, and I immediately recognized her as the woman from the training room.

“I overreacted a bit,” I admitted, as she cautiously came to stand beside me. I was suspicious of the close proximity, seeing as the last time I’d ran into her she had tried to send a round of lead through my brain.

“I guess I overreacted a bit too,” she apologized, noticing my distrustful expression. I briefly looked down and with a shock I realized that these weren’t my clothes– not by a long shot. They were all white and a tad itchy.

“Where are my clothes?” I asked, picking at the white shirt with a grimace.

“In holding. We have some other clothes around though. Do you want to borrow those?” she asked, and in the way she said it, I knew that it was either take the borrowed clothes or these paper sheets that dare call themselves garments.

“Sure,” I acceded, and she motioned toward the door, but stopped right before typing in a passcode to unlock it.

“Don’t try and run again, alright? We’re here to help you, not hurt you. You have to give me your word,” she stated, fixing me to the spot with a stern stare. I heaved a sigh and looked up at the ceiling as if it held that answers to all of my problems. Promises meant nothing to me but in this one instance I wouldn’t be leaving this room without giving one. “Alright. I give you _my word_ ,” I said, and the heavy block of nervousness settled into the pit of my stomach. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t have to regret my decision.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avengers Initiative.

Main Character's P.O.V

 

I sighed in content as I stepped into the warm water, the phrase ‘heaven on earth’ coming to mind. I hadn’t had an actual shower in a year, easy. Sure, I’d bathed in rivers, a few streams, and maybe a dingy gas station bathroom, but nothing with hot, clean water. I was like a little kid in the candy shop when Natasha (also apparenlty known as Black Widow, totally badass codename in my opinion) had allowed me to use her bathroom to freshen up. Her quarters were much larger than anything I’d ever lived in, even when things had been good. Almost everything was metal and that had set me on edge, but I guess it was something I’d have to get used to. I thought back to when we’d left the examination room, the star spangled man whose name I hadn’t yet received, quickly parting with us and disappearing down another hallway. For that, I had to admit I was a bit glad. He was bringing forth too many memories.

Coming back to the present, I watched as a steady stream of nearly blackened water began to swirl around my feet as the dirt was stripped from my hair and skin. After what seemed like an eternity the water ran clear. My skin was a shade lighter and the natural dark brown of my hair was revealed. I took my time scrubbing the additional crud from my scalp and almost broke into a happy dance when I spotted a razor on one of the shower shelves. It’s not that I had much hair to be rid of, (which I was really thrilled with, or else my legs would look like a pair of fur pants), but the stubble did bother me, as I’m sure it does almost every woman. I cringed a little when soap ran over the sutures of my bullet wound, the sting far from pleasant. From the looks of it, it would heal nicely, leaving behind nothing but a smooth scar. Several other scars littered my torso and my legs, though they were white and long faded. A rather gruesome looking patch of skin ran along my right hip, the shape of the scar obviously man made. I shuddered as I was catapulted into another flashback.

_“Specimen 6392 primed for branding,” a robotic voice declared as the metal restraints tightened around my wrists and ankles. My shirt was rolled up to reveal my stomach, the cool air causing goosebumps to erupt across the skin. Tears began to stream from my eyes as I caught sight of the rectangular piece of steel that hovered next to me, protruding from the far wall. It was being heated over an open flame and the usual grey color of the metal was now a blood red, glowing in the dimmed lights. I bit down onto the cloth that covered my mouth, and began to shake. Slowly, it inched towards the right side of my waist, the air around it hissing as it was heated as well. When it was within five feet of me, it jerked to a halt. I let out a breath, thinking the machine had malfunctioned. I was sorely mistaken. In one swift movement the piece of steel had been pushed into my hip, my skin crackling and blistering under the heat. I shrieked into the cloth, my nails cracking as they dug into the underside of the table. The pain was intolerable – torturous. I cried out in agony until my throat was raw, my feet pointed straight down in inconceivable torment. I dry heaved, my vision becoming blurred by blotches of black. I’d never experienced a pain like that. It was so undulated, so concentrated. At the time, I’d believed death would have been better than enduring that hell. It seemed like centuries later that the metal piece finally retracted, coated in charred blood and tiny specks of what could once have been called skin._ The pain eventually lessened over time, though the sterilization and changing of bandages was nearly too much to handle.

I must have been in the bathroom for over an hour, because by the time I got out my fingers had the textures of prunes. I hastily dried off, relishing the feel of the soft towel against my skin. It was like a fluffy cloud infused with cotton. My body had dried, but my hair –reaching a little past the middle of my back– was still sopping wet, even after towel drying it. I did not spot a hair dryer, the likes of which I’d only used once or twice in my life. With a quick glance at the door to make sure it was locked, I took a deep breath and began bending the water from my hair. In seconds my hair was moistureless and a giant glob of floating water hovered above my palms. I quickly disposed of it by dropping it into the shower, washing away some excess dirt while I was at it. It was only when I turned around and saw the empty counter, did I realize I had forgotten to ask for clothes. Wrapping a towel tightly around myself I poked my head out of the door, and called for Natasha.

“Clothes, right?” she chuckled seeming to appear out of nowhere. Without another word, she handed me a pile of denim and leather then walked into another part of the room. I closed the door and hurriedly changed into the foreign materials. I found that I had to do a tiny dance to get into the pants. I think they were called skinny jeans. Even as I emerged from my little haven, I knew I’d never truly be comfortable in these types of garments.

“This...is what you wear?” I asked Natasha, fidgeting in the skin tight jeans.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked, sounding mildly offended. I wasn’t used to city clothes, or store bought clothes for that matter. I’d snatched up some clothes here and there over the years, but they had never appeared to be practically sprayed on like this. She sat on the bed, idly flipping through a magazine that looked like it was a weapons catalogue. She picked her head up when I spoke, and her eyes widened at the sight of my already dry hair, but she did not comment. I frowned at my reflection in the wall length mirror, my fingers ghosting over the leather jacket and white t-shirt, a color I’d never worn. It seemed too bright to me.

“I’m just not used to clothes like this,” I explained, tugging on the hem of the t-shirt.

“You actually prefer those raggedy things?” she exclaimed, standing and placing her hands on her hips.

“They kept me warm and they kept me hidden. That’s all I needed,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. Her gaze softened at that– an unspoken understanding.

“Well they certainly won’t help you stay hidden around here. If anything, you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. By the way...where are you from?” she inquired, rifling through a small box that sat on a metal nightstand.

“I don’t stay in one place for long,” I replied, hoping to avoid the question completely.

“You like to travel?” she asked, still not turning to face me.

“I...I don’t know,” I answered, watching my reflections brows furrow in concentration.

“You don’t know?”

“No. I mean...I traveled because I had to. I didn’t really have time to enjoy it,” I said. She didn’t respond, instead she closed the small wooden box and slipped a thin golden bracelet onto her wrist. It held a simple elegance and was quite pretty, and by the new light in her eyes, I had no doubt that the man with the bow and arrows had given it to her. I noticed that she was a bit taller than me, and now that I had gotten a closer look at her I surmised she was indeed older. At least by three or four years.

“You look like a completely different person,” she commented, seeming a little awed.

“I was a walking dirt ball, I had no idea that dirt could cake on like it had,” I said, examining the back of my noticeably lighter hand. She sniggered, before handing me a pair of black sneakers that had laid beside the night stand.

“Thanks,” I said, slipping them on.

“I think it’s time you met the Avengers,” she said, and I nodded, worry churning my gut around and around in dizzying circles.

“I’m guessing you’re one of them,” I stated, and a small smile made its way onto her face.

“You guessed right,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her out of the room. We walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound was our footsteps thudding against the linoleum. “I never got your name,” she prodded, making an abrupt right down another desolate hallway.

“I never gave it,” I quipped.

“Touché,” she said, and we both laughed at the tone she used.

“Well, here we are,” she announced, pushing open a set of double doors. We walked into a room full of monitors, with people bustling around passing off papers and consulting with one another. Yet again, everything was metal. Was it too much to ask for a bit of wood or at the very least plaster?!

“Hey, Spidey!” a man called, and the woman immediately sent a glower in his direction. He sat at a long conference table set a bit above the swarm of people. The other’s were all vaguely familiar, and I suddenly recognized them as the people who had stopped Natasha from releasing me from my temporary prison. She walked ahead of me and sat down beside arrow man, and not knowing what else to do I took a seat at the far side of the table away from the majority of the group.

“So you’re the new recruit,” a man said, coming over to stand across the table from me. He was a bit lanky and wore a pair of fashionable glasses, his hair a little wild looking and streaked with a tad of grey. I started at his words. New recruit? I didn’t recall signing up for anything.

“I didn’t think I was,” I muttered, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh. No one explained anything to you yet?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“No.”

“Well, I’m sure Fury will be here later. I’m Bruce Banner,” he said, sticking his hand out in front of him. I stared at it, perplexed, before I realized he was looking for a hand shake. I hesitantly placed my hand in his, and shook it once.

“Making new friends, Brucey?” another man called and by the faint huff I heard from Natasha I knew it was the man who had been teasing her. Bruce sighed in exasperation, and rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hi there,” the other man said, plopping down in the seat beside me.

“Hi,” I said, turning in my seat to face him. He mimicked my actions.

“I’m Tony Stark a.k.a Iron Man: Rich billionaire playboy philanthropist. And you are...?” he prompted, waving his hands in a dramatic motion.

“A girl a.k.a human: Poor and able to kick your ass,” I said, leaning back into the chair. I blinked, surprised with what had just come out of my mouth. But Tony guffawed and I caught a glimpse of a glowing circle of light in the middle of chest as his shirt twisted. Iron Man indeed.

“See! At least she has a sense of humor,” he said, giving Bruce a ‘why-can’t-you-be-like-her’ look.

“So, I hear you can move water with your mind,” Tony said, leaning forward. I shrugged, placing my hands in my lap. I had only seconds to react. Tony had grabbed the cup of water from beside him and swung it around, the water flying from the cup, heading straight for me. My hands flew up, the liquid stilling mid flight. It levitated two inches from my face, the glob glinting in the harsh light. It was uneven in shape as water normally was, and it swished, the soundly very near inaudible.

“Holy crap!” Tony exclaimed, jumping from his seat. I jumped too and the glob hit the floor, water splashing everywhere. Dead silence filled the room as everyone turned to stare, mouths agape.

“A very interesting set of talents you have there,” a voice boomed, and I turned to find the man in the eyepatch. I shrugged again, thinking it wise to stay silent. “I’m Director Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D,” he said, striding over and stopping in front of me. A glint in his eye told me he had not forgotten about our small scuffle earlier. “These are the Avengers,” he stated, gesturing toward the group at the table. This was met with a few half hearted waves and smiles. “And this,” he began, handing me a stack of papers that were at least half a foot high, “is our initiative.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because I most likely won't be able to update until Wednesday and this upcoming Friday is iffy. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the Kudos and for reading!

Tony Starks' a.k.a Iron Mans P.O.V.

She sat down at the table, placing the stack of papers before her. Her eyes flitted briefly over the front page before she moved on, really beginning to read the important information. She was maybe two minutes in when she abruptly pushed away from the table, jumping back from the papers as if they’d suddenly grow teeth and bite her. Her hands trembled lightly and she crossed her arms in defiance once she noticed my gaze. “Not interested,” she said, shaking her head profusely.

“You hardly read anything!” Clint objected, motioning towards the untouched pages.

“I read enough,” she snapped, the harshness completely lost when her voice shook. I narrowed my eyes, trying to determine what had her so shaken up. I’d read over the exact same initiative and there wasn’t anything fear provoking typed up.

“I advise you to re-evaluate your decision,” Nick said, coming to stand beside her. He was just as puzzled as the rest of us though he was more adept at hiding it.

“And I advise you to drop it,” she snarled, whirling around to face him. This girl was not the same one who’d been joking around with me just a few short minutes ago. Nor was she the timid dirt ball who seemed to be afraid of her own shadow. She was actually...hostile looking. In the blink of an eye Fury had a gun trained on the spot between her eyes, having taken up a defensive stance. The girl froze instantly, back rigid with fear.

“Fury...” I said, rising from my seat when his finger inched towards the trigger.

“Back up,” he ordered her, and the girl obliged, taking ten huge steps backwards. She shoved her hands into the jeans pockets, casting her eyes toward the ground.

“Now why are you so opposed to joining the Avengers?” Fury inquired, calming himself down.

“I’m not cut out for hero work,” she muttered, running the tip of her shoe against the floor.

“How would you know that?” I scoffed, giving her a dubious look.

“I’ve tried to be one before and...it didn’t exactly turn out as I hoped it would,” she said, voice barely loud enough to hear.

“Well, then you try again. Everyone has off days!” I exclaimed, trying to rid the room of the melancholy that seemed to be swirling around the girl.

“I– I can’t,” she mumbled, voice breaking. Her lower lip had begun to quiver, her lashes fluttering as she fought to blink back tears.

“Who did you try to save?” Widow inquired, voice quiet and understanding. A tone she’d never used with me. Figures.

“My...people,” she said, raking her sleeve across the planes of her face, removing the few traitor tears that had managed to leak out. It had been a while since I’d seen someone so...broken. There really was no other word for it.

“People like you? Your family? Friends?” Natasha probed, only receiving a nod in return.

“What happened?” she asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. This seemed to be the last question she could handle about her past because she more or less exploded.

“I screwed up! I was stupid and careless and I screwed everything up!” she shouted, throwing her hands into the air.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault–”

“I killed them!” she ground out, turning her tear laden gaze onto the now shocked Agent.

“I tried to be the hero, I tried to help, and I got them all killed. My friends, my family. They’re all dead because of me. Not captured, not injured, not missing– dead. All because I wanted to play the part of the hero. I can’t– I can’t do that again,” she choked out, her eyes pleading for us to understand. When no one responded, she briskly exited of the room, slamming the door behind her, but not before the sobs she’d been trying to hold back finally burst forth.

 

Main Character’s P.O.V.

 

I bit my bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as I raced around trying to find an exit. My cheeks burned with the shame of losing my composure in front of so many people. By the time I found a door that lead outside I could hardly see two feet ahead of me, the tears blending everything into a colorful blob of shapes. It was night again, the stars twinkling across the black expanse of sky. I walked for a block, dodging numerous agents, before finding a lesser used building which was in noticeably poorer shape than all the rest. I made it around to the northern side, which faced a rocky tundra of some sort, before slamming my back against the wall and sliding down onto the ground. “ _Stupid!_ ” I chided myself, gripping my head in my hands. I hadn’t meant to let that much information slip up. Hell, I didn’t want to give them any information at all. I hit my head against the wall –once, twice– trying to bash the memories out as they started snaking there way up to the front of my mind. By this time I was in the grip of a full out breakdown, ragged sobs tearing there way up and out of my chest. It had been a long, long time since I’d openly cried and the years of pent up sorrow seemed to find this as the perfect opportunity to surface. “I’m so, so sorry,” I mumbled to the wind, the statement delivered choppily and with a rather hoarse voice. I cried even harder, realizing they’d never be able to hear me.

A few hours passed and I was thankful that they had sent no one to search for me. Weakness wasn’t something I necessarily valued. Sniffling a few more times, I made my way to my feet, brushing some dirt off the legs of my borrowed pants. I took a few deep breaths and tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to mold my expression back into the unreadable mask I’d grown so accustomed to wearing. I considered going back to formally decline their offer, no matter the consequences, but decided just leaving would be less of a hassle to both of us. They needed a hero, and I was the farthest thing from a hero that they could possibly get.


	8. Chapter 8

Main Character’s P.O.V.

 

I readied to launch myself over the fence when the sound of thudding footsteps reached my ears. I turned, just in time to see the Widow come into sight, followed by the man with the arrows.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, stopping to catch her breath. She looked mildly relieved to have found me, but I noticed the mans' fingers were twitching, no doubt ready, and willing, to shoot me, if I made a move against Natasha. “Hey,” Natasha called bringing my attention back to her, eye brows furrowing as she noticed my stoic expression.

“You’re planning to escape, aren’t you?” the man surmised, narrowing his eyes, hand reaching up towards his ear piece, no doubt to request help.

“I wasn’t aware that I was a prisoner,” I snarled, backing up almost imperceptibly towards the fence. An hour ago I was to be there associate, now I wasn’t allowed to leave?

“You’re not– she’s not, Clint. But we saw you kill someone, then toss our recording device off a mountain side. As you can imagine that raised some suspicion about your intentions,” Widow reasoned, holding her hands out, palms forward, to show she meant no harm.

“I was surviving,” I spat, feeling so incredibly foolish to have been captured in the first place.

“By destroying S.H.I.E.L.D.’s property?” she asked, arching one eye brow.

“They would have tracked me down if I’d left any evidence behind!” I shouted, my hair shimmering with the rage that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

“Who are ‘they’?” she asked, and I swear my blood ran cold. My mouth slammed shut with an audible snap, my angered quivering coming to an abrupt halt.

“You found her, Spide–” Tony proclaimed, clad in full gear, only to freeze when he noticed my panicked expression. Bruce and the star spangled man followed him around the side of the building.

“Who are ‘they’?” Natasha demanded, eyes scouring my face for any sort of hint. I stayed silent, afraid that if I spoke of them again they’d actually appear.

“Who?” Bruce asked, receiving a shrug from Tony.

“Look we want to help–” Natasha began, but I cut her off, sick of all this helping business. No one could help me now. All I could do was run and pray that my strides were longer than theirs.

“I don’t need your help. I need to leave,” I mumbled, turning on my heel, bending the earth beneath my feet out of the ground and into the air. I was fast, but apparently not fast enough. Tony had landed next to me on my little floating platform of dirt and was currently trying use the rockets in his hands to make us float downwards. “Get off!” I hissed, my fear translating into harshness.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he chided, lowering us back down, past the top of the fence. With one huff I had propelled us at least 100 feet in the air, catching the billionaire off guard. He whipped his head from side to side and lost his footing, plummeting head first off the rock. He fell for all of three seconds before I’d caught him in a cocoon of air, depositing him safely onto the ground below. I lowered myself down on the opposite side of the fence, just out of range of the light the buildings cast.

“We need a chopper and emergency vehicles to building 34J on the Eastern side of the compound, outside the security perimeter,” Clint barked into his ear piece, while simultaneously notching an arrow.

“Don’t you think there’s more safety in numbers!?” the star donning man blurted out, grasping the chain links with desperation.

“Not with them,” I shouted back, retreating even farther from the group.

“Stay where you are!” Natasha ordered, visibly torn between verbally reasoning with me and drawing a gun.

“I’m sor–” I said, only to be cut off by a hideously loud boom from behind me. Heat licked at my back as I was thrown forward against the fence in a small wave of rocks and sand. My ears rang, a shrill high pitched noise the only thing I could hear. My vision was blurred, the large rock before me doubling, then tripling in number before falling back into one solid form. Something heavy rested atop me, the weight uncomfortable but not crushing. I vaguely felt the fence behind me fly away, and I rolled onto asphalt, now realizing the weight I had felt had been sand, the grains spilling away and off of me.

Hands grasped at my upper arms, pulling me into a sitting position and resting me against a cool brick wall. A muffled “gihhhaa” reached my ears, and my eyes, which had been previously turned skyward, were now turned towards Widow as she crouched before me. “Hhhhyyaahh,” she said, and I grunted in confusion. Her words were not coming across clearly. It sounded like she had two pounds of cotton in her mouth. A few minutes passed, my hearing gradually returning to me, as well as my normal vision. Something wet dripped from my forehead and without looking I knew my cut had been reopened.

“Are you alright!?” Natasha queried, helping me stand.

“Fine,” I mumbled, swaying a bit.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, Steve and Tony are checking it out now,” she said, gesturing toward the spangled man and Iron man as they cautiously approached a dent in the ground maybe fifty feet from where the rest of us stood. Without thinking I started jogging toward them, ignoring the throbbing of my skull. By the time I had gotten there, Steve was already holding the object in his hands. It was a small capsule of sorts. It was flat and oblong, not looking capable of making the explosion that went off just moments ago. It had a small screen on the front, just big enough for a thumb. The man now known as Steve seemed to be on the same thought train as me, because he placed his thumb against the square.

“DENIED,” it beeped, startling him enough to drop it. In a trance like state, I stepped forward and picked it up off the ground, staring at the cold, cruel looking piece of metal. It was rectangular, obviously steel, and my face showed on the surface like a mirror. With a shock, I noticed it matched the scar on my hip almost perfectly. I gulped, pushing down the bile that rose in my throat. I settled my thumb onto the little screen, watching with a detached patience as it scanned the print.

“ACCESS GRANTED,” it beeped before popping open, revealing one folded piece of paper. I unfolded the letter, dropping the piece of machinery onto the ground at my feet as I read over its contents. My mouth fell open in silent admission of my horror and I lowered the letter, shaking like an earth quake was tearing through the land. I plopped myself onto the ground, placing my head between my knees, focusing on trying to remember how to breathe. After 3 years without incident, they’d finally found me. They’d found me...

 

Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America’s P.O.V.

 

Whatever was on that piece of paper was not anything good. I retrieved the letter from the place the girl had let it flutter down, my worry escalating as her teeth began to chatter from the force of her shaking. Her hands were gripping her shins so hard I thought the bone would break through the soft skin. With a learned wariness, I unfolded the paper, letting Tony have a look as well.

In small, formal print it read:

_Calypso, Running on broken legs is extremely difficult. Running with a broken spine is downright impossible. We are growing tired of this chase. We advise you to put an end to it immediately, or we will put an end to it permanently. You have 5 days._

I read the letter over at least twenty times, before the full force of the threat hit home. My eyes flickered up to the supposed Calypso just as she fell back, out cold.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve Roger’s a.k.a Captain America’s P.O.V.

 

“What does this mean?” I asked, leaning my head into my hands. Calypso had gone into a full fledged fit when she’d came to, much worse than before. She’d made 3 attempts to escape the medical ward but after being thwarted each time, she’d finally broken out into sobs, every plan of escape abandoned.

“I’m not sure yet. We have to know what we’re dealing with and what the best course of action would be,” Fury responded, placing the letter into a folder labeled ‘classified’. Natasha scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re honestly considering giving her up to those people!?” she shouted, pushing away from her spot on the wall and storming towards the director. Fury became tight lipped and hard eyed, and Widow took this as a conformation to her accusation. She growled, barely restraining herself from leaping forward and tackling Fury out of a nearby window.

“Are you serious, Nick?” Tony asked, everyone now just noticing his presence at the entrance of the room. He’d stayed behind to wait for Calypso to calm down, if only to thank her for not letting him go splat on the concrete.

“I am. If whatever she’s gotten herself into endangers everyone here–”

“You’ll feed her to the sharks? You were a signature away from adding her to The Avengers,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. This was the first time that I’d actually seen Tony pissed off, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. His usual joking demeanor was gone and it unsettled me, along with Bruce. Tony wasn’t one for seriousness.

“She declined the offer,” Nick said, clutching the folder to his chest.

“She’s a good kid. She’s spared 3 of our lives already, and you’re ready to simply hand her over?” Stark shouted, livid.

“If it comes to that–”

“You know they branded her right? Held a molten slab of steel to her hip until most of the skin had melted away?” he said, voice icy and unnerving calm. Natasha’s breath stopped. Bruce blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard right. No one seemed to be able find anything to say, so Tony continued on with these newfound facts about this enigma of a girl. “Did you know that they tortured her for years, performing experiments while she was _still awake_!?” he hissed, grinding his teeth. Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“My hands are tied on this matter, Tony. The higher ups don’t want to risk compromising the rest of you. Whatever trouble this girl is in could potentially endanger S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn’t sign the agreement so she’s not under our protection,” he sighed, his inner frustration working its way into his expression.

“What if we could convince her to sign it? Now?” he asked, tapping his foot with impatience. Fury’s eyes shone the slightest bit of hope at the prospect but it couldn’t have lasted for more than a second before resignation took its place.

“What makes you think she’d sign it now, if she was so opposed to it before? Besides, I’ve already told my superiors she’s refused to join,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward in defeat.

“Screw them! If she’s not under S.H.I.E.L.D’s protection then damnit, she’ll be under mine,” he snarled.

“Stark–”

“I’m with Tony on this one,” Natasha piped up, coming to stand beside him. Of course, Clint and Bruce weren’t far behind.

“You risk being compromised,” Nick warned, glaring down the most unlikely pairing I'd ever seen.

“‘Compromised’ my ass,” Tony growled, striding forward and ripping the folder from Fury’s hands. Without waiting for a response he strode out of the double doors, the master assassins and the Hulk not far behind. The director glanced over in my direction, a deep rooted fear swirling within his darkened iris, but it was quickly over shadowed by...nothingness. He was already emotionally detaching himself from the group, as if he knew whatever was chasing her would eventually succeed, destroying us in the process. So much for faith. I stood from my seat, catching the double door before it could shut completely, leaving Fury alone in the control room to ‘distance’ himself to his hearts content.


	10. Chapter 10

Black Widow’s a.k.a Natasha Romanof’s P.O.V.

 

“Does anyone know where Thor lumbered off to?” Clint asked, glancing into the rooms we passed while on our way towards the medical ward.

“No...why?” I inquired, just realizing that the Asgardian was indeed gone. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since the impromptu conference that started this whole mess.

“Just wondering...” Clint responded, eyes flicking back and forth nervously. I smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Thor’s not going to take over the world, that was Loki’s thing,” I chuckled, earning a glare from him that softened the longer we held eye contact. I began to lean in when we were interrupted by a choking noise made none other by Stark.

“Get a room,” he scoffed, ducking just as my foot flew past that spot where his head had been.

“I think I found Thor,” Steve called from up ahead, nearly two hallways ahead of us. He was stopped outside the observation window of one of the infirmary rooms.

“You _think_ you found him?” Bruce asked, sending Tony into a round of hysterics at the scientists dry sense of humor, “he’s pretty hard to miss.” Steve gave him a flat look, before turning his attention once again toward the room. What we saw inside was... a bit surprising. Thor sat in a chair in front of the bed which held a cross legged Calypso. They were talking, though the words were incomprehensible to us. Whatever Thor was saying, and by his pained expression I could tell it had to do with Loki, was causing something in Calypso’s eyes to flicker. It could have a been an idea, or maybe a long dead spark of hope, but whatever it was, was managing to thoroughly unnerve me.

“Somethings not right...” I muttered, watching as the wheels turned in the young girls' head.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, and by the tone of his voice I knew he could see it too.

“Turn on the microphones inside the room, I want to know what he’s talking about,” I ordered. Bruce nodded, walking over to a panel of about fifty switches that had been priorly concealed from view, flicking on what appeared to be a random six. Suddenly, Thor’s voice filled the small hallway and we all fell silent. I strained my ears to hear the slightest changes in pitch to signify anything amiss.

“Loki is currently back in Asgard, serving justice there. The Chitauri have retreated back to their realm but I fear they may come back for my brother,” Thor sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Look past his actions Thor– try and see the big picture. Who did he encounter when he fell? Where did he wind up? Who could have tricked him into that?” she reasoned, voice firm. The spark failed to ignite.

“I didn’t have much time to before, but I will. You make much sense for such a young woman,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I hope so. I do have a few questions though. How does one get to Asgard from here? Spaceship?” she inquired, tapping her fingers against her right knee. Thor guffawed, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

“No. It is very complex to get from Earth to Asgard. It requires a great energy source, the tesseract for example. But I can travel freely between the realms though it does take an immense amount of effort,” He explained, crossing his arms. Calypso’s eyes crackled like the fourth of july.

“What about Loki? It must have been difficult to arrive at earth from the other side of the space time continuum,” Calypso prodded, brows arching in amazement.

“I would not know. He arrived at earth through methods that are a mystery to me. He is a powerful sorcerer though, so I believe he used magic to a certain extent,” Thor said, shrugging. With just the minute widening of her eyes, I could tell what Calypso was really striving to find out.

“She’s not thinking what I think she’s thinking...” I gaped, placing my hands on my hips.

“I think she’s thinking what I think you think she’s thinking...” Tony said, an awed grief taking over his expression.

“I’m a bit confused here. What is she thinking?” Steve asked, casting a look at the pair who still were locked into deep conversation. I coughed once, clearing my throat, before speaking. “She wants to bring Loki back.”

 

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

“Do you think...if proper precautions were taken...that Loki could perform an act of good? Here on earth?” I asked, twiddling my thumbs with nervousness. Thor took on an air of understanding, looking up at me from under his lashes.

“It is about those people who sent the threat, is it not?” he queried, and I hung my head, nodding just the slightest bit.

“I don’t believe anyone here would ever trust Loki enough, myself included, to be allowed back on earth. Especially with the task of assisting a stranger, something my brother has never favored,” Thor said, a touch of nostalgia pulling him into the past.

“Alright...” I mumbled, a sense of foreboding latching itself onto me. Noticing my dismal state, Thor sighed yet again, turning to stare up at the ceiling, before turning his gaze back onto me.

“I am truly sorry. If things were different, I would. But as of now, I cannot,” he apologized, scooting forward and taking one of my hands in his own.

“Could I possibly visit Asgard someday...if I ever see you guys again?” I asked, my throat burning with the threat of more tears. “ _Child_ ,” I thought to myself, ashamed of my behavior.

“What do you mean ‘if you ever see us again’? Do you plan on leaving?” he exclaimed, the shock in his eyes almost comical.

“I don’t plan on it, but things happen,” I whispered, comforted when his hand squeezed mine lightly.

“They will not take you– we will make sure of it,” he said, voice firm. But all I could do was squeeze his hand tighter, unwilling to let myself fall victim to the hope that lied within his words.

Knock. Knock.

My eyes flashed toward the door as it opened, the rest of the avengers stepping into the chilly, metal laden room.

“Hey there,” Tony said, his voice soft, as if a tone that was any louder would send me into another round of sobbing.

“Hi,” I said, and the smile that I tried to force upon my face must have looked absolutely gruesome, because his eyes narrowed, his brows knitting together in concern. I hadn’t forgotten what I had shared with him earlier, and by the way his shoulders drooped as he shuffled towards the bed, I knew he hadn’t either.

He stopped before me, and I eyed the papers in his hand with suspicion. From behind his fingers I could just make out the beginnings of a word: ‘ini–”.

“As of right now, I don’t care if you sign these papers or not, you’ll be under our protection regardless. But it would make the logistics of your initiation run a whole lot smoother,” Tony said, handing me the papers. It was the initiative once again.

 

Tony Stark’s a.k.a. Iron Man’s P.O.V

 

She immediately shoved the papers back at me as if they’d burned her. “I can’t sign those,” she snarled, though it sounded more like a plea than anything else.

“The 'earths mightiest heroes' bit is optional, Calypso. You’re not being held responsible for anyone or anything,” Natasha assured her, watching the girl with a hawk like gaze, attempting to keep eye contact.

“Is that true?” she asked, now directing her question toward me. Natasha huffed but remained quiet. We all knew gaining Calypso’s trust was going to be an uphill battle from the start, but it still hurt to be doubted.

“Yes. Natasha wouldn’t lie...well, wouldn't lie to you,” I chuckled, and I could see her start to waver. She picked at the hem of her shirt, eyes flitting between each of us, remaining there for no more than a moment. “It’s just an initiation into our group. You’d be able to call yourself an Avenger!” I cheered, trying to sway her with the promise of cool nicknames. She was silent for a few minutes, staring down at her hands, messing with her fingernails, and examining a couple pieces of fuzz on her pant leg.

She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes closed, before snatching the papers from my hands, grabbing the adjoined pen and scribbling her name down on the last page. Natasha and Steve sighed in relief. “Welcome to the Avengers,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. This time around there was no hesitation.

 

Calypso’s P.O.V. 

 

I hopped from the bed, raking a hand through my hair as Natasha lead the way from the room. We were all heading off to the cafeteria to celebrate, seeing as that going anywhere outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. would not be particularly good news for me.

The threat from them had burned itself into my mind, and the celebratory spirit didn’t excite me as it did the rest. I took in their smiling faces, their laughs, the jokes they taunted each other with. It was a nice feeling to be surrounded by such...happy people. It had been a while since I’d seen a genuine smile and not a conniving, blood thirsty leer. It was a breath of fresh air, yet I knew my oxygen supply would be coming to an end soon.

They never gave up without a fight, demolishing anyone who dared to get in their way. And I knew when the time came, I’d have to give myself up. I wouldn’t let these people –this completely dysfunctional, mind boggling semi-family– be harmed. I knew that when the team dragged me along to demand the cook on duty to make chocolate cakes, I would be willing to give myself up in order to protect them. I was already up to my neck in blood, add anymore and I’d drown.


	11. Chapter 11

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

“Tell me something about yourself, anything you want,” Steve said, hurriedly tacking on the last bit. I chuckled at his gentlemanly behavior, taking another bite of the heavenly cake that sat before me. Double fudge with dark chocolate icing. I’d say it was my favorite type of cake, but I’d never had anything like it before, so I had to settle for saying it was the best thing I’d ever eaten. 

“I like the color blue,” I said, going on to explain that I favored light blue over navy or aqua. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, finishing up his own plate of food. 

“I like that color too,” he said, gesturing towards his suit, only to realize he wasn’t wearing it. 

He gave an embarrassed cough, “What about friends? Family?” he asked.

A somberness fell upon us as he immediately recognized his mistake. He parted his lips to apologize but I held up my hand, swallowing the lump that had abruptly formed in my throat. “It’s fine. I need this, just let me think for a minute,” I whispered, sending him a reassuring smile. I racked my brain, trying to conjure up a memory that wouldn’t reopen my poorly healed wounds. I thought of my mother, my father, my little brother, and Roland.

Roland.

I remembered everything about him– the way his hair stuck out on end during humid days, the hazel tint his eyes took when he glanced up at the sun, the roughness of his palms as he grasped my hand whilst we took a stroll through the trees, the smudges of dirt that always seemed to grace his face just under his left cheek bone, the tanned hue of his skin and the muscles that rippled beneath his homemade clothes... 

Out of everyone, Roland was the one I remembered the most, missed the most. He had been my everything. “When I went on long trips by myself, my boyfr- best friend would always worry that something would happen to me. He worried himself sick waiting at the edge of our town until I’d gotten home. Sometimes he’d wait until 3 in the morning and I’d finally had enough of his silly behavior,” I said, drawing back into my own little world. “So I made a pact with him: If he didn’t receive a purple petunia on his front step the day I’d said I’d return, then something was wrong. If he did, that meant he didn’t need to worry and that I’d be back to see him soon,” I finished, proud of myself for not allowing my voice to crack.

“He sounds like he was a nice guy,” Steve prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He was. He– he was,” I said, failing to find any words suitable for how genuinely good Roland had been. After a few minutes of quiet, interrupted only by the brief bickering of Tony and Natasha from a few tables over, I decided to ask him a few questions of my own. 

“Can you tell me something about yourself? Anything you want,” I said, smiling when he picked up on my slightly mocking tone. 

“I was frozen in ice for 70 years,” he said, laughing at my shocked expression.

“How is that even possible?!” I exclaimed, trying to imagine the scenario in my head. I didn’t see anyway he could have survived for that long without sustenance or breathing for that matter.

“They said it was something in my blood, the serum that made me what I am today,” he replied, shrugging. 

“Are you glad the serum saved you?” I asked, noticing the small frown that drug his lips downwards. 

“Yes...it’s just that I lost someone very important to me, and adjusting to this new time period hasn’t exactly been easy,” he said, tilting his head towards the high tech devices that littered the room. 

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, making us both smile as we realized this was something we had in common.

“Are you glad that we saved you?” he asked, and slowly, our joking mood vanished. 

“Still up for debate,” I said, gnawing on my lower lip. He gave me an unfathomable look, opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again.

“Why the long face, Cap?” Tony yelled from across the room, looking back and forth between Steve and I. 

“Because I got a glimpse of yours, Stark. Made me a little nauseous,” he shot back, clearly taking the Iron Man off guard. Too bad he specialized in improvisation. 

“You sure? I’m certain that it was just your jealousy of this gorgeousness boiling to the surface,” he shot back, easily getting under Mr. America’s skin. 

“No, the ugliness was simply too much for me too bare. I think the cakes might make a reappearance,” Steve joked, making fake gagging noises. Seeming to have no response, Tony chucked a cake at Steve, hitting his forehead dead center. A beat of shock, before cakes were being launched left and right, everyone steering clear of the assassins who had horrifyingly accurate aim. I ducked under the table, using little bubbles of air to propel the cakes away from me, occasionally snatching one from above and taking a small bite. 

“Mind if I scoot under here?” Tony asked, just as he slid in beside me. I smirked at his disheveled figure, chocolate bits sticking to his hair, clothes and face. Without warning I smeared a cake onto his face, adding to the mess. He blinked a few times, but before he could respond to my actions I was gone, giggling as I dodged the food projectiles, heading for the other side of the room. 

“Oh, it is SO on!” Tony roared from behind me, and I could briefly hear him stomp his foot. If he wasn’t a child at heart I don’t know who would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and thank you all for reading! :D Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

Clint Barton's a.k.a. Hawkeye’s P.O.V

“She looks like she’s making herself right at home,” I said, ducking just in time to avoid a fudge cake to the heart. Natasha sighed, casting a glance at the giggling girl who took refuge a few tables away. It seemed she had completely forgotten about her predicament, or at the very least had chosen to not dwell on it for the time being.

“She doesn’t deserve whatever they have in store for her,” Nat fumed, sinking down and placing her back against the over turned table.

“I hate to say it but that’s life, Nat. I consider her an Avenger but do we even know what we’re up against?” I said, taking the spot beside her.

“I don’t care who or what they are– they aren’t going to touch her,” she muttered, lip jutting out like a petulant child. A murderous, petulant child.

“We’ll do our best,” I sighed, reaching down and entwining my fingers with hers. She stared down at our hands, tracing the lines of my palms with her thumb.

“What if we could send her to Asgard? I’m sure Thor would keep her safe,” she suggested, peeking over the table to see him fall to the floor, a baking pan smeared with frosting stuck to his face. “Well, safer,” Nat amended, eyeing the disgruntled god.

“But we don’t know what these people are capable of. If they go on a rampage of earth - killing thousands, maybe millions, of innocent civilians while they do - what happens then?” I asked, though I already knew the answer, buried as it was beneath my own personal attachments to the enigma known as Calypso.

“We fight like last time–”

“What if this isn’t like last time?”

“We fight harder–"

“Or die trying?” Nat turned all the way around to look at me, scrutinizing every tick of my facial muscles and every emotion that flashed through my eyes.

“What are you implying Clint? That we give her up? Don’t tell me you’re siding with Fury,” she asked, incredulous. I took a deep breath, running a hand down my face.

“If it comes to that I’m not sure anyone –including myself– would be able to give her up, Nat. But we have to think of the bigger picture,” I reasoned, and her eyes widened when she realized I was completely serious.

“Well I’m not going to stop protecting her until she’s safe–”

“And I’m not going to let you get yourself killed,” I interrupted, voice firm.

“You’re doubting me?” she spat, crossing her arms. Her face began to heat up, her cheeks puffed out.

“No, Nat. I know exactly what you’re capable of, but like you said before, this isn’t something we’ve been trained for. I have a feeling that this will be worse than what Loki managed to concoct. I don’t doubt you Nat - I never have. But we need to just let some things be,” I said. She slumped down, fight seeming to evaporate, burying her face in her hands.

“I know that,” she snapped, voice cracking the tiniest bit, “but how would we do it? That option is a one way street Clint - either we abandon her now or we abandon her when she needs us the most. We all know what it’s like to be betrayed. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I did that.” I huffed, pulling at my hair.

“We’ll figure something out. Talk things over with the others. But before we do, we need to talk with Calypso - find out what the hell we’re dealing with,” I said, toying with a stray curl on her head that was at least an inch longer than the others.

“Later. Let her have some fun for now,” she said, leaning over to rest her head onto my shoulder. I nodded in agreement, listening to the ruckus taking place not a few feet away. A young girls laugh pierced the mutterings of the other Avengers and Natasha slipped her hand into mine, fingers tightening around my own. Apparently, life missed the memo stating that it wasn’t supposed to give us the whole damn lemon tree.

“Squirt the lemons into life’s eyes then take its wallet...” I muttered.

“What?” Natasha asked, picking her head up to give me a dubious look.

“Nothing,” I coughed, scratching the back of my neck. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been running around like a chicken with it's head cut off trying to get organized for college, and I had to catch up on a weeks worth of work for school. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! :D


	13. Chapter 13

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

“Training?” I snorted, eyeing Steve with incredulity. It was late, maybe around ten o’ clock and Natasha had suggested the idea that I be trained in basic martial arts. Or at the very least, some self defense. I found this a bit ridiculous.

“Yes. Now, I want you to try and hit me,” Steve said, dropping into a defensive stance. Natasha shifted on sidelines, moving farther away from Tony who was messing around with something on his phone. I briefly wondered how they ever cooperated long enough to get anything done.

“Hit you?” I asked the Captain, folding my arms across my chest. I was now clad in a gym t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. They were surprisingly comfortable, something I’d have to invest in if I was ever out on my own again.

“Yes,” he replied, putting up his wrapped hands. I flicked my finger and almost immediately Steve was on his back, floundering around like an overturned turtle.

“That’s...cheating!” he exclaimed, finally able to right himself.

“You said hit you. You didn’t say with what,” I replied, smirking.

“But what if you couldn’t use air? Or if your hands were tied? You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself,” Natasha butted in.

“Fine, fine. But I already know the basics. If you’re not going to challenge me then I’ll leave,” I warned, giving Steve a stern stare.

“How about a round with me, instead?” Natasha suggested, ushering Steve to the side of the gym floor. I nodded, feeling my muscles rev up in anticipation of the sparing match.

“You sure about this, princess? They call her a _master_ assassin for a reason,” Tony said, eyeing the Widow with worry. I cracked my neck and stretched out my legs, taking up a fighters stance.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, stepping to the side just in time to see Natasha slip by, a fist once aimed for my shoulder colliding with still air. Without pause she whirled, catching my back foot with hers, attempting to yank it out from under me. Things were a blur from there. Every kick, every punch, and every jab was delivered in perfect symmetry. If I kicked, she blocked and vice versa. Finally, after 10 minutes of accomplishing nothing but losing our breath, we backed off, panting, hands on our knees.

“Holy CRAP. Where did you learn to fight like that!?!” Tony shouted, phone clattering to the floor.

“Places...” I muttered, swiping some hair from in front of my eyes.

“No, not just places! You don’t learn to fight like that in places!” He exclaimed, completely and utterly gobsmacked. I shrugged, shuffling my feet.

“It took me years to master things like that,” Natasha said, also in awe.

“Who said it didn’t take me equally as long?” I said.

“But it didn’t, did it?” Natasha asked, scooping up a water bottle from a nearby bench before taking a seat.

“No. But let’s talk about something else,” I suggested, Natasha quickly picking up that this was a touchy subject.

“Alright. How about...we...teach you how to use a phone?” Tony suggested, waving the sleek piece of machinery around in the air. From what I could see it had no buttons: just a blank glass screen.

“How are you supposed to call people with no buttons?” I inquired, eyeing the phone with curiosity.

“Seriously?” Tony asked, looking on the verge of cracking up. “Really!” I said, frustrated, feeling as if there was something I was missing.

“Oh, you have a lot to learn,” Tony sighed.

 

 

Steve Rogers a.k.a Captain Americas P.O.V.

 

Calypso was like a five year old on Christmas morning once the phone came to life. The glow of the screen flashed across her face, blue eyes ignited with the low light, reaching up to carefully cradle the phone in her palm. “What are these?” Calypso asked, pointing at the games that littered the screen.

“Those are apps. They are for entertainment purposes- OW!”

“What Tony was saying,” Natasha interjected, laughing as Tony massaged his shoulder, “is that these are games.”

“You can do more than just call now!?” She exclaimed, eyes widening to twice their normal size. She was liken to a deer caught in a pair of headlights. A very pretty deer caught in a pair of headlights. I blanched. Did I just think...? No. She was an associate I couldn’t have feelings for her anyway! There was still Peggy... but she was gone now– besides I just met her! My disconcertment must have been clearly written across my face because Calypso glanced up from the phone and watched me with a bit of concern. “Are you okay?” she asked, tilting her head just a little to the side. Her wild main of hair followed suit, framing her face like a piece of artwork.

“Fine! I just remembered I have to go check on something! I’ll be right back,” I blurted out, turning and high tailing it out of the room. What was wrong with me!?

 

 

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

Shrugging, I turned my attention back towards the phone, gliding my finger acorss the smooth surface. “I thought I’d never like technology but this is neat,” I declared, jumping a bit as a song started blasting from a tiny, embedded speaker.

“Whoops, I should probably take that,” Tony said, before snatching the phone from my hands and hitting a number on the keyboard. “Pepper,” he drawled, waltzing from the room. I stood, pouting just the tiniest bit, before Natasha came and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you one. But in the mean time, I want to show you something really cool,” she said, leading me from the gym.

“What about training?” I inquired, casting a glance back at the punching bags.

“Training-shmaining. If you can fight like that you’re good,” Nat said dismissively.

“If you say so...” I muttered, looking around at the maze of white hallways, trying to figure out where on earth she was leading me to. We were walking for a good five minutes and climbed three flights of stairs before she stopped outside a rusted door. With a grunt she shoved it open, a cool breeze ruffling my clothes. I stepped forward and gasped at what was before me.


	14. Chapter 14

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

Stars. Millions of them. Billions. Trillions.

They littered the sky like tiny torchlights, similar to the ones I had seen in the small, rural villages during my time in Europe. I made my way further out into the night, tiny beads of dry tar crunching beneath my feet as I went. The edge of the roof made it up to my waist and I leaned against it, my head straining with the effort of looking up into the sky. It was cloudless, a bit chilly, but a nice night. “A great view, huh?” Natasha asked, suddenly beside me. I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I always loved the stars,” I breathed, tracing Orion’s Belt with a quivering hand. “My mother taught my about almost all of the constellations. We used to sit outside, just her and I, and- and she’d lay out a blanket for us to sit on. She held me close- I could hear her heartbeat, and sometimes it would just lull me to sleep before she could tell me any stories,” I chuckled, though it sounded more like a strangled cry. The memories came back in force; stars always seemed to do that to me. I paused, my eyes shifting over and finding Andromeda, daughter of the King of Cepheus. “Then, other times, we’d just sit there and talk for hours. I told her about Roland, and about school, about my friends - everything. She was the only one I could tell everything to,” I choked out, slamming my hands down onto the ledge. I fumed for a minute, staring down at the asphalt below. So empty, so lifeless compared to the masterpiece that shone above me.

“What did she look like?” Natasha asked after a few minutes, voice soft. I took a breath, debating on whether I _could_ tell her. My eyes never leaving the ground, I dove headlong into my past.

“Like me. Well, I resembled her. Her hair was a bit longer than mine, a few shades darker, eyes a few shades bluer,” I said, twirling a strand between my fingers absentmindedly. “She had the nicest laugh; it always made everyone else laugh. Even Melody”.

“Who’s Melody?” she asked, shifting in her spot to give me a dubious look. I smiled, turned, and sat down with my back against the ledge. I gestured to the spot beside me, patting the tar. Natasha took it, waiting for me to continue.

“Melody was the village grouch for lack of better terms. Nobody knew where she came from- she was kind of, just, there. She was a wiry woman, with pin straight blonde hair. I never did get her age, but she seemed old. Always turned up her nose at everyone, didn’t socialize, and when she did, it was to berate someone. She always scowled at the little kids that walked across her lawn, even going as far to curse at some of the adults,” I said, smirking as I remembered the colorful language she used to describe Roland. A ragamuffin with the lice. He’d scoffed at that, insisting that she get her facts right. It was _fleas_. Fleas!

“Was she rich?” Nat asked, choosing to look at the sky as I talked. I gave a bark of absurdity.

“No! Besides, we didn’t have money. We just bartered with people for things we needed. She just didn’t like people, I guess. ‘Forever Bitter’ was her nickname,” I replied, shrugging. “Whenever there was a party- and the houses didn’t have fences so everyone sort of just mingled in this giant grass area that sat in the middle of everything,” I explained, using my hands as I talked.

“Were they like today’s houses?” she inquired, tucking her legs beneath herself.

“Some were, if they felt like going out and trying to salvage the supplies. Other were made of logs, like ours. But my dad went out and found some windows. Let in a lot more light,” I chuckled, remembering moms face when she’d come home from the falls to see them installed. “So, back to Melody. We’d always have parties, and everyone would attend, unless they were sick or something dire like that. They were fun. We’d dance, some of the more musically inclined kids would make instruments out of whatever they found lying around. My mom would tell stories, dad would build up the fire, and Roland would always show up ‘fashionably’ late, pulling me into a bear hug when he arrived. But we always noticed Melody was missing. Her house was the log type- no windows. We could only see a small sliver of light under the door, occasionally some smoke out of the makeshift chimney.”

“But if she didn’t like to socialize, why be surprised that she didn’t show?” Nat asked, in honest confusion.

“I didn’t say we were surprised, but my mom didn’t like that she was always alone. So, one night, in the midst of all the fun, she went to knock on the anti-funs door,” I said. “From my place by the fire I could see the door crack open, but couldn't see Melody’s face. My mom talked to her for what must have been an hour, but then again, it could have been ten minutes. We didn’t really keep track of time.”

“What did she say?”

“I have no idea. But whatever it was, it got Melody to join the party. At first, she partially hid behind my mom like I did when I was little. Now _that_ confused me. She was always so hostile to everyone that I didn’t even think she’d have a problem marching into the gathering. But she was shy, for the first time in probably, ever,” I said, my initial puzzlement still clear in my voice. “Things continued on as usual, and as the night drew on, she began to talk with everyone. They were as shocked as me, but gradually warmed up to her presence, including her into their conversations. My mom started telling jokes and had everybody cracking up. Even the grouch had to wipe a few tears from her eyes. Roland, who’d been sitting next to me all night as usual, told me the real Melody got abducted by aliens. We’d laughed, finding it absolutely hilarious, until Melody herself turned towards where we sat,” I said, yawning.

“What happened?” Nat asked, shaking out her hair.

“I was getting to that!” I snapped, teasingly. “As I was saying, she looked at us. I don’t know if it was the light, or the lack of it, or just the way her face settled, but she didn’t look bitter. At all. I don’t know how she looked, but it wasn’t that. It was...regretful, to a degree. But there was something in her eyes. Something I didn’t like. It was gone before I could analyze it, so I left it alone, not paying her anymore attention.”

“Regret?”

I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning my head back to rest against the cement wall. “She...she was the one who ratted us out. Who brought the ‘suits’ in,” I said, pushing the memory of that day far, far away. Natasha was silent. “I thought... I thought for a moment that she was human. That she could actually be our friend. On that...horrible...day, all her behavior made sense. She didn’t want to get too close to us. She wanted to push us away so it hurt less when they came to take us all.”

“Did she die, too?” Nat asked, her tone expressing her need of ‘yes’ as an answer. One I couldn’t give.

“No. Not that I know of, at least. She was never with us when we were...in holding. She was given a free pass to go. I’m assuming she got paid off. She’s still out there, somewhere. Probably living in a mansion with ten cars and a pool,” I laughed, though it was dry and void of humor.

“I’ll find her,” Nat snarled, livid. I sighed, shaking my head.

“No. Leave it be, Natasha. She’s not worth it anymore. Took me a few years to see it, but I finally did. She’s going to die like everyone else, hopefully in a painful, tortuous way. But she’s not worth the effort of tracking down,” I said, waving away Nat’s disbelieving stare. “And don’t you track her down either. You’ve got to promise me. Do not get involved with these people,” I said, holding my pinky out, “pinky promise.” Nat didn’t move, and I glared, the wind starting to pick up.

“Fine,” Nat acceded, lips turning up slightly as she promised in such a childish way.

“Thank you,” I said, yawning again.

“Ready to go in?” Nat asked, still a little tense.

“Yeah. My story-telling is over,” I said, standing. I stretched, my joints creaking, rubbing my eyes as Nat did the same. We must have been out here for a while. She lead the way back inside, showing me to an extra room before disappearing down another hallway. I stepped inside, the door hissing as it closed. The room was incredibly less...messy than Natasha’s. This made it more sterile and uninviting. A single bed on a metal frame, a metal desk with a metal chair, and a single bathroom with, you guessed it! A metal toilet. Though I was too tired to really become irritated with it all. I kicked off the borrowed sneakers, semi-falling into bed. I pulled the covers up to my neck, burrowing under the pillows until my head touched the wall. The sheets were surprisingly soft and I curled up in delight, preserving what warmth I had. This was my first actual rest in what was probably a full 24 hours– maybe more. The lights from the hallway shut off and I was bathed in darkness instantly. I yawned once more, before succumbing to a much needed sleep, Meoldy’s cackles still ringing in my ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but thank you all so much for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I'll have the next chapter out soon.


	15. Chapter 15

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

“ _You can’t run forever_...”

“ _Calypso_!”

“ _Help us_!”

“ _Please don’t_ –”

“ _You’ll kill us all_!”

“ _You have to try_!”

“ _You wouldn’t want to wind up like Roland_...”

“ _Who are you_?!”

“ _Go get help_!”

“ _Stop! I’ll do anything_!”

“ _WE’RE BURNING. YOU’VE KILLED US, CALYPSO. YOU_!”

I shot up in bed, tangled in the sheets, heart thrumming like a psychotic humming bird was trapped beneath my ribs. My mouth had gone dry, my limbs quaking as I stood, making a bee line for the restroom in complete darkness. I gave back the cupcakes and what little dinner I had eaten, leaning against the far wall in exhaustion, my stomach twisting itself into a knot. I flushed the toilet, proceeding to splash my face with cool water from the sink. When I chanced a peek at my reflection I was ready to be sick again, my stomach finding its way back up my throat. I was ghostly in appearance, a reanimated corpse with wide, bloodshot eyes. I quickly averted my stare to the floor, running a shaking hand through my hair, grabbing a handful and tugging on it in frustration.

I knew I only had days left until they came to collect, but was a few decent hours of shut eye really that much to ask? Of course, as soon as I’m able to sleep without the worry of being taken away in the midst of the night, I have to have _that_ nightmare again. It was always the same one - over and over again. Tears pricked from behind my eyes, but I pushed them back, dragging in a much needed gulp of air. No use dwelling on it at this moment.

After rinsing out my mouth, I took a quick shower to rid myself of the thick layer of icy sweat that oozed from my pores. Terror had a funny response on the body. Once that had been done, I looked around the room, hoping to find a clock of some sort. My internal clock was...off. I had the distinct feeling that it was no longer morning, but much later in the day. Next to the bed was a rectangular, plastic machine with red letters across the front that read 3:23 p.m. So, my assumptions had been correct. I’d slept for nearly twelve hours.

I padded back into the bathroom in only a towel, to realize I had no clean clothes. I was not going out to look for Natasha in only this sheer garment, not even pausing to consider the blankets. I shuffled back out into the room, checking out a cupboard that rested in the far corner for _something_. It somewhat resembled a closet, and it couldn’t hurt to check. I pulled open the doors, the steel cool against my fingertips, smiling at what I saw. A few pairs of gym pants, under garments, some baggy gray pants, a pair of sneakers, socks, t-shirts, along with some jeans. A letter was on top of a sequined shirt, the print hurriedly scrawled and a bit messy.

_Thought you might need a wardrobe. I’m having more shipped in but these should do for now. -Nat_

Placing the note on the bed, I went and slipped on a pair of baggy cloth pants and a black t-shirt. They were beyond comfortable, the material making me want to lay down where I was and take a nap. I laced up the pair of sneakers, before heading out. I had no idea where anyone would be, or where I was going, but I figured now would be a good time to explore a bit. I wasn’t overly fond of being on my own at this point, but some things couldn’t be helped. The door hissed as it opened and I stepped out into the hallway only to stumble right into someone, sending both of us to the ground. I groaned, sitting up whilst cradling my throbbing skull, to see the man who donned the shield doing the same.

 

Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America's P.O.V.

 

I eyed Calypso with surprise, immediately feeling guilty for getting so lost in my thoughts. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. “Are you alright?” I inquired, sticking a hand out to help her. She swatted it away, clambering to her feet with a clumsy type of swiftness.

“Fine,” she said, tone clipped, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked absolutely haggard. She was three shades paler than normal, dark circles staining the skin below her eyes, her mouth a tight line of annoyance. But I guess the last trait was of my own fault.

“Are you sure? You look... not normal?” I prompted, not wanting to outright say that she looked bad. Partly because I didn't want to be drowned where I stood, the other half because that would have been untrue. She was still pretty, just incredibly tired. She smirked at this, finally meeting my eyes. They were at least five hues bluer than mine; much more captivating, especially when brimming with amusement, as they were now.

“I look that horrid, huh?” she chuckled, honest-to-god smiling at my horrified expression.

“No- I mean - uh. You just look tired! Not bad,” I sputtered, immediately feeling a long forgotten heat rush up to my face. I hadn’t blushed in over seventy years. Still smiling, she turned, walking off in a random direction.

“Do you know where the mess hall is?” she called over her shoulder, not pausing to look back at me as she asked this.

“Down the hall to the right,” I said, jogging until I was beside her. It was rude to call out to a lady.

“Are there set meal times? Or can I just go in and order something?” she asked, letting me walk slightly ahead to guide her in the right direction.

“Order anything,” I replied, holding the door open for her as she stepped through. She passed fairly close to me, my nose detecting the faintest hint of lilac and something that could only be described as a summer breeze. It was unlike any perfume I’d ever smelled - it was her. Just Calypso. She continued by me, not noticing my pause, heading straight for the chefs counter of pre-made items. She hastily picked up a sandwich and a small water, taking a seat at one of the empty tables. Not many agents were around - maybe ten, including us. I sat across from her, watching as she scarfed down her food, paying no heed to manners of any sort. She noticed my peculiar stare and cocked an eyebrow, snapping a sharp “ _what_?” through a mouthful of turkey.

“Nothing,” I muttered, laughing as she glared at me. She was done in record time, patting her flat stomach contentedly.

“What’s on the agenda for the day? Or what’s left of it,” I asked, only to have her stiffen, eyes analyzing me. She stayed like that for a long time, eyes roaming over the planes of my face. I held my breath, not daring to duplicate her actions. Did I say something to trigger her?

“You remind me of someone,” she breathed after a while, slumping back in her chair.

“Who?” I inquired, eyebrows shooting up towards my hair line.

“A friend,” she replied curtly, her hawk gaze dropping into one of pure curiosity.

“...Is that good?” I managed, nervousness gnawing a hole in my gut.

“I haven’t decided yet. But... so far you’re okay,” she answered, flashing me a small smile, though a hint of scrutiny remained. I mimicked her actions, but the grin instantly flew from my face when the cafeteria doors flew open, the person who had made the dramatic entrance calling out in an obnoxiously high pitched voice, “AW! Look at the two love birds!”

 

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

Once the initial shock of the statement had worn off, my face flamed, the color of red most likely matching that of the stripes on Steve’s shield. I glared at Tony, baring my teeth in what was supposed to be a threatening manner. But who felt endangered when a tomato glared at them? He plopped himself down onto the seat next to me, flashing Steve a condescending smile. There was an undercurrent of tension from both sides, a rubber band just waiting to snap.

“So, what were you two talking about?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. I scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“What!? You were staring at each other for ten minutes straight. Ogling is more like it,” he said, placing his hands behind his head, waiting for one of us to come up with a response.

“He reminds me of Roland. I was trying to decide if I liked that or not,” I finally said, shrugging my shoulders, my posture nonchalant.

“If you say so...”

“I do say so,” I snapped, causing Tony to laugh, before he stood and sauntered over to the lunch section, picking up each sandwich as he moved down the line. He was a picky eater.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go train today,” Steve inquired, my eyes drifting from Tony back to him. He fidgeted in is seat, his eye brows scrunching up just a bit in the middle, his nervousness shining through. I had no idea why he wanted to train, considering that I could take him down in an instant. “I didn’t mean combat, but maybe we could go down to the shooting range,” he said, noticing the look I was giving him.

“Sure,” I said, actually a bit psyched. I’d never shot a gun before, not knowing where to get ahold of such weapons and not staying in one place long enough to find a dealer. It would be an experience.

“Alright. Should we go now?” he asked, and I nodded, glancing over at Tony who was still picking through the pre packaged food. Bruce had joined him and they were engrossed in a conversation, shoulders hunched and heads bowed toward one another. He wouldn’t miss my presence.

“Lead the way,” I said, following the soldier through the double doors. Just as I reached the threshold, I thought I’d heard Tony say something along the lines of, “Loki’s back” but I shook my head, dismissing the thought as the doors swung closed. Thor’s brother was in Asgard, locked away in a heavily guarded prison. Hope was messing with my hearing. I sighed, my once brisk walk now a lagging shuffle. If only Loki didn’t try and take over the world... I might have still had a chance.


	16. Chapter 16

Iron Man’s a.k.a. Tony Stark’s P.O.V.

 

“I picked up an usually large power source, radiating from the center of the desert. I’ve only seen it once before,” I muttered, trying to keep the news on the down low.

“Are you sure it’s him and not some other Asgardian? A friend of Thor’s possibly?” Bruce queried, placing his plate back upon the rack. I mimicked him. I’d lost my appetite too.

“If it is, then we have to alert Hammer Head. But wouldn’t he know if a friend decided to jump through the space time continuum to pay him a visit?” I whispered, following Bruce from the cafeteria to head back to the lab. He took off his glasses, wiping them clean on his shirt as he thought.

“It’s a possibility. But if Loki broke out, and is back on earth, wouldn’t Thor know that as well? I believe he's in touch with their ‘gate’ keeper of sorts. Heimdall, I think it was,” Bruce said, the electronic door hissing open as we stepped inside. I hurried over to the desk, quickly putting my findings onto a nearby screen.

“That - that’s not good,” Bruce finally managed after minutes of silence. The power signature was off the charts, almost exactly identical to what Loki’s had been.

“If it is the diva, do you think he would try to take New York again? Its only barely recovered,” I exclaimed, printing the scans.

“No, I don’t think so. Loki might be crazy, but he’s cunning. He wouldn’t try something like that again without proper allies, materials, and planning. At least, I hope he wouldn’t,” Bruce sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Well, Blondie is still here on earth. If he decided to attack, we’ll be on an even playing field,” I said, snatching the papers from the printer to reanalyze and take notes in the margins.

“Do we tell the others?” he asked, coming over to examine them himself.

“Not yet. Don’t want to cause a scene,” I replied.

“Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?” Bruce chuckled, taking to jotting things down onto the whiteboard. I just laughed, praying to the tippy top of Stark Tower that the bastard wasn’t back in my hemisphere.

 

Steve’s a.k.a Captan America’s P.O.V.

 

Calypso was bright. Incredibly so. I had hardly finished giving instructions when she snatched a pistol from the rack and took up a solid stance. “Like this?” she inquired, glancing down at her feet with furrowed brows to assess her position.

“Yes. Now, after you put on your ear muffs you’re going to want to click off the safety. That’s the little clip right...there,” I said, pointing to the small piece of metal attached to the barrel. She nodded, putting on the muffs. I stepped back, leaning against one of the posts, a good five feet back. “Now, try and aim for the red portion inside the target!” I shouted, and she nodded in acknowledgment. She fired off three shots, two hitting the white and one soaring through the yellow portion just outside the body of the target. After taking a deep breath, she fired off five more, three of which tore through the chest of the would be victim. A smile blossomed across her face, eyes lighting up as she turned towards me, gesturing wildly to the target. I gave her a thumbs up, breaking into a smile myself. Her exuberance was contagious.

With a newfound determination, she turned back to fire the last bullet. She squared her shoulders, and took up the proper stance once again. Her mouth went from upturned to flat, as she focused on her goal. With a bang, the shot left the barrel, flying straight through the center of the paper target's head. It flew from the hook, fluttering to the ground like a leaf from a tree. A bullseye. She removed the muffs, nearly shaking with pent up excitement. “I did it!” she yelled as soon as I removed my own muffs. She was like a child that had learned to ride a bike for the first time.

“Nice job, especially for a beginner,” I complimented, taking the gun she held out to me. I had yet to teach her how to load it, figuring I’d save that for later on. “But remember, only fire a gun if you intend to kill. If not, don’t bother,” I said. She nodded, her hand absentmindedly rubbing across the small sutures of the wound that lay just beneath her shirt.

“Do... do you think they really want me _dead_?” she squeaked out, not looking at me, eyes someplace far away. I didn’t know how to respond to that. The actions of whoever was after her wouldn’t add up if they simply wanted her dead. That message they sent could have just as easily have been a bomb. They could have sent more than one man to kill her on that mountain, men with heavier artillery. For all we knew, they could have bombed our base with everyone still inside just to get to her. So, no. I didn’t think they wanted her dead, and the thought made a jolt of fear surge through me for Calypso. Tony had said that she’d told him that death was far better than what they’d have in store if they ever captured her. But I couldn’t tell her this. I didn’t have the heart. “It doesn’t matter because they are not going to kill you. Not with us around,” I assured, trying to lighten the suddenly damp mood.

 

Calypso’s P.O.V.

 

I hummed in acknowledgment of Steve’s words, but his pause was enough of an answer for me. I’d hoped with every fiber of my being that they’d leave me alone, or at the very least only plan to end me. I couldn’t live through those years of confinement again. Not after a taste of freedom, however brief. “Can you put up another target?” I asked, noticing how close we’d gotten. My skin tingled as I stepped away, eyeing the the table of bullets.

“Sure, sure,” Steve muttered, jogging behind the station to go retrieve the hole ridden paper. I sighed, raking a hand through my hair, the guns weight pulling down on my fingers.

“Alright! Here’s another,” Steve said, startling me. I hadn’t heard him approach. He handed me another pistol, stepping back to his place a little ways from me. I put on the ear muffs, casting the soldier one more glance. In the few days I’d known him, a small friendship had begun to blossom. He was a nice guy- sweet, for his time. A pang went through my chest, as I turned away, donned the muffs and took up my stance. I needed a miracle. Without one he might just be another friend I’d yet to lose. Another friend to suffer because of that damned woman. I took aim, finger tightening around the trigger.

“Only shoot if you intend to kill,” I muttered, firing away at the imagined picture of Melody’s sneering face. Not one bullet missed its target.


End file.
